Take On Me
by Klarinette-18
Summary: Toki wants to be closer to his friends. Is that such a bad thing? I forgot to do a disclaimer, so here: I DON'T OWN METALOCALYPSE! And I make no money off of my stories.


Here it is: my first fic! Well, no... I have another one, but it's almost entirely based around an OC. Anyway, this is just a little one-shot I did in about an hour. Sorry if my Toki's a little over-the-top. Enjoy, and comment/critique if it strikes you :)

Toki always wanted to have something in common with the other guys in the band. No one else seemed to care much for anyone else's hobbies or interests, but the young Norwegian didn't agree with that. He didn't agree with not caring about the other band member's personal lives or problems, either, but that was neither here nor there right now.

He had submerged himself in several new things over the last few weeks, trying to find something he could identify with; agree with; at least feign an interest in. He'd tried everything—reading book after book like Nathan (but he always ended up getting bored because none of the books that the frontman read ever had any pictures, and Toki had a hard enough time speaking English, let alone reading it), watching movies and documentaries about the World Wars and ancient civilizations, and collecting different weapons and war artifcats like Murderface (but he didn't like all the blood and death that came with the movies and shows, and really didn't like the idea of people actually using those weapons against each other, even if it had happened hundreds of years ago), and he never really could figure out what Skwisgaar was interested in, if anything, other than playing the guitar to the point of near-obsession. It came down to Pickles. Toki has always gotten along with Pickles better than he did with anyone else in the band, aside from the Swedish lead guitarist when he wasn't being a total dildo for no reason, so Toki decided he'd try extra hard this time, and maybe find some sort of parallel or common ground with the dreadlocked drummer.

Everyone knows a couple fundamental facts about Pickles: he likes alcohol, and he has a soft spot for the 80s. Toki knew these things, as well. He considered Pickles' interests, and decided that he'd rather not get into binge drinking as any kind of hobby (he wasn't really in the mood for drinking at all). He started thinking about the other thing the drummer liked: the 80s. Growing up in Norway, Toki knew that the 80s he'd experienced were much different from that that Pickles could sort of remember through the fog of drugs and alcohol.

"What's ams so cools abouts de 80s?" The Norwegian thought idly to himself, quietly plucking out a melody on the Flying V that lay across his lap. He knew about Snakes N' Barrels, but beyond that, he realized that he didn't have very much to work with. "Maybe I shoulds checks de internets," he thought. He set the guitar down on his unmade bed and headed down the hallway towards the living room. Passing by Pickles' room on his way, he could hear the Yooper drunkenly bellowing out a song that Toki was unfamiliar with. He put his ear to the door, trying to catch some lyrics:

_So, needless to say,_

_I'm odds and ends,_

_But I'll be stolen away,_

_Slowly learning that life is okay…_

Toki frowned, trying to dedicate some of what he'd heard to memory. He figured that he could maybe Google a line or two and see if he could figure out what song that was that Pickles has been listening to. _Ams perfects timings._

When he arrived in the big room, Nathan was on the couch, his eyes buried in an old, burgundy hardcover, and Murderface was on the other side of the room, half-heartedly playing Wheelchair Bound. Every now and then, Toki could hear _"Wheelchair Bound… motherf~kin' Wheelchair Bound" _come from the bassist.

Toki nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Nathan greet him, "Hey, Toki."

"Oh, hey, Nat'ans. Didn't t'inks you'd sees me."

"Just because I'm not looking doesn't mean… you know… I don't pay attention to stuff… or whatever. What're you doing, anyway?"

"Uh… I's just gonna go ons de computers… I's boreds." Nathan grunted in agreeance, and continued reading.

The rhythm guitarist sat down at the computer and pressed the power button. He tried to remember some of the lyrics, and he rolled them around in his head, _"Buts I bes stolens aways, slowly learnings dat lifes ams okays…"_ or something, whatever that meant. The computer booted up quickly, and Toki opened the Firebox web browser. He typed the line into the Google search bar and clicked 'go'.

He felt mocked by the response, "Did you mean: Buts I bes stolens aways, slowly learnings dat _**files**_ams okays?"

"Whats? No, dat's not whats I means!"

"Huh?" Toki heard Nathan grunt from the couch.

"Oh, not'ings. Stupids Google's makin' funs of Toki," the guitarist pouted.

"Google doesn't make fun of people, Toki."

"It ams doings its right nows!" The singer stared for a long moment, and then went back to reading; he didn't see the point in arguing about this, seeing as Toki felt genuinely insulted by what he'd read on the screen.

"Stupids Googles," he muttered to himself. He scrolled down the page, clicked a few of the numbers at the bottom to search a few more pages, but found nothing. He realized it was probably the way he'd typed the lyrics. _Dis ams embarrassings._ Hesitantly, he told himself he was going to need some help with this. "Nat'ans?"

"Mm?" the burly frontman responded.

"Cans you helps me wit' somet'ing?"

"Uh… huh? Oh… yeah, okay…" he said, standing slowly, still reading from the book. He took the glasses that were perched on his nose and rested them on the page he'd been reading, setting the book down, open, on the couch. He walked over to join Toki at the computer. "What're you doing? What do you, uh… need help with?"

"I's tryings to looks up de songs lyrics, but I don'ts haves de words rights."

Nathan chuckled to himself as he read what Toki had typed in the search bar, "Uh… I think I know what, uh… what line you're looking for." He moved the cursor to the search bar, clicked, and held down the backspace button until the letters were gone, re-writing the line the young Norwegian had typed in his broken English.

"Dat looks more likes what de songs says," Toki smiled happily.

"What do you need this for, anyway?" Nathan asked, confused.

Toki felt slightly embarrassed, not wanting anyone to know what he was up to, "You knows… just hears da songs on de, uh… de radios, and I just wants to … uh… I wants to learns it on de guitars! Ja, dat's it! I wants to learns it! Is catchy."

"That's what was so bad about the 80s, Toki," Nathan sneered, "Crap like this. So not metal," the singer paused, "…catchy as f~ck, though. Uh… don't tell anyone I said that."

Nathan clicked on the second link of the page; lyrics for A-ha's _Take On Me_. "Uh, here," he said, "This is, you know… the song. You can find chords for it, too… and stuff. Uh, yeah…" he trailed off as he walked back to the couch, picking up his glasses and book. Toki watched him walk across the room, and head down the hallway, probably going back to his room to read in peace.

"So, dis ams de songs," the young guitarist whispered, opening a tab in the same browser window, typing Y-O-U-T-U-B-E into the search bar. He typed the song name into the YouTube search bar (_So much works for dis songs)_, and clicked the first video. He didn't like what he heard. It was all electronic-sounding, and fake. He watched the video with vague amusement, laughing at the animation and horrible acting. _Dats was weirds_. He clicked the 'back' button and saw the same song, but by a band called Reel Big Fish. He clicked on that one and watched it, too. "Looks at dose guys," he mused, wondering how anyone could dress the way the leader singer was, "He ams a weirdos whats has stupids hair. Dis music ams makes people crazy." He listened to the rest of the song, closed the tab and returned to the Google browser, this time searching for chords for the song. He found a page that proved sufficient, and printed what he found. He shut down the computer and headed back to his room, Murderface completely unaware that Toki had ever been in the room.

Passing Pickles' door again, he could hear some other weird song that the drummer was sloppily howling the lyrics for, probably dancing in his underwear. He turned into his room and closed the door, hoping that he'd be left alone for the rest of the night. He jumped up on his bed and stepped over the guitar, sitting down crossed-legged on top of his pillow and picking up the Flying V. He set the paper in front of his legs and started strumming out the chords. The song was easy enough, so he started humming what he could remember of the melody.

He hadn't looked at his clock much. All he knew was that the song had gotten into his head, and he'd been playing it over and over. By now, he was on his feet, jumping on the bed, singing the lyrics in his broken English, crumpling the paper beneath his socked feet. He got to the second chorus of the song and started belting out the lyrics, strumming the chord hard each time, "TAKES… ONS… MEEEEEE," playing a noodly little riff that he'd made up to go along with it between lines, and continuing, "TAKES… MEEE OOOOONS!" As he sang the next line, he was so engulfed in his 80s fantasy that he didn't even notice when his door opened a crack, "—I'LLS BEEEE GOOONES—"

"—In a day or twooooo!"

Toki's eyes flew open as he felt his face flush hot. "Pickle!"

"Hey, don't stahp! Yer doin' great!"

The Norwegian felt humiliated, and immediately dropped to his knees on the bed, "Uh… I was jus'…"

"What're you emberressed aboht? Yer blushin'!"

"You ams wasn't supposed to sees…"

"What do you mean?" The redheaded drummer leaned against the doorway, not very steady on his feet right now.

Toki sighed to himself and decided to tell Pickles his idea, "Wells… you knows how we amn't supposed to likes each odders and takes interests in whats de odders guys likes and alls dat?"

Pickles nodded.

"Well, is stupids!" Toki frowned, "What's wrongs wit' likings de sames t'ings? We all likes metal, rights?"

"Heh… hope so, y'know... far as I know," the drummer grinned crookedly.

"See? Dat's one t'ings. Why can'ts we likes mores den dat?"

"So, wait," Pickles brows knitted together in thought and rasied a finger, "You learned dat song, y'know, 'cause a' me?"

The rhythm guitarist flushed slightly, absently rubbing his right arm, "I's wants to learns a song whats you ams know so dats we coulds have somet'ings whats in commons."

"Toki," the redhead laughed, "We have lahts in cahmmon. We jus', y'know, don't tahk aboht it."

"But whys don'ts we talks about it?"

"Same reason we don't tahk aboht sadness, y'know? Makes ya gay." The drummer didn't entirely agree with what he'd just said.

"Why ams everyt'ings makes you gays?"

Pickles shrugged, "You wanna come party wit' me, er naht? Dere's so much more music ya gahtta hear!"

The Norwegian smiled and got up from his bed, excited to spend time with the dreadlocked drummer.


End file.
